Inside the Notebook, Inside the Heart
by Broken Dandy
Summary: Sherlock uses his notebook for more than notes about cases- He uses it as a diary, too. The great genius Sherlock Holmes writes from his heart. Will turn out to a Johnlock fic in a later chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **This is the first part in a series with unkown amount of chapters. I do not own any of the characters, if anyone thought so. This is the first time I write a "chapter story" and I am not very certain in my skills, so it would be very nice if you could tell me how I get on.

_5/6,_

_Dear God. It is 3.30 in the morning and John had one of his nightmares again. Since I am no longer the heartless person I once was, I made some tea to comfort him. It was probably more heartless than if I'd just ignored him because I managed to accidently food poison him with the sour milk I use for my biological experiments. I didn't do it with purpose; I can say for my defense, though after drinking it, he had to spend quite a time with his face down in the toilet. _

_When he got out, I apologized for the very first time in my life. He answered with a face that, from what I could tell, meant that he wasn't mad because there was nothing but this to expect from my cooking skills. Which was true. I may be the brightest man on earth, but my practical skills are the same as a 2-years-old child's, which has resulted in that John is the one who cook. _

_He went up to his room and I decided to show, in an easier way, that I actually cared, so I went down to Mrs. Hudson's cupboard for cleaning attachments and got a bucket and on my way up to John's room I picked some blankets up. _

_When I came upstairs, John was already half asleep so I quietly sneaked in and put the bucket next his bed and tucked him in the blankets. Then he moved a little and said: "Sherlock, I am not mad at you; I thought you could read that out of my face downstairs, so why are you here and why are you so caring?" _

_Perhaps I wasn't as quiet as I thought. But I answered: "Because, like you told me, friends protect you and now you need protection. I made you ill and now I'll make you well." He shrugged his shoulders and said goodnight and I silently went out. _

_I felt awkward when I came out. It felt as if I had walked in on John's personal space without permission with a good intention that had ended in a disaster. This, of course, was exactly what had happened. _

_Heavens, it was lovely being a heartless person. I didn't care for people and no one cared for me. Sod John for walking in and being damn patient and understanding and softening. His presence gave me a heart and it was awfully annoying sometimes. _

_I have been thinking about him pretty much for a while. Why John? Why did I become so attached to John of all people? He wasn't cleverer than other people, he wasn't kinder than other people and he wasn't more interesting than other people. These thoughts are stupid. Of course I know why I "chose" him. He's just as lack of friends as I. We are both lonely and we have both come to the conclusion that we better can be lonely together._

_Before John moved in, I had Mrs. Hudson for company but she always talked and didn't have the intellect to keep up with my speed of thoughts. John doesn't either, but he is closer._

_Sleeping's so boring. It's like being death except you wake up again. I never know if I want to wake up from my sleep, it depends on where I am in the land of dreams. In my dreams I have seen tales beyond the extreme in the land of obscene and I am not sure if I want to leave. But I most certainly want to leave the nightmares I have. _

_Oh, great. No I am fully awake and won't sleep a wink more tonight. I better go up and read some of John's poems for his former girlfriends. It always makes the time pass._


	2. Chapter 2

_6/6_

_John and I have been arguing. Well, John yelled at me for putting dangerous experiments in places they "should" not be while I merely listen half-hearted. It ended as it always does- with John running out with a slam in the door. Usually, he is gone for an hour or so, and then he come back, but this time he has been gone all evening. And I am lying here, wondering whether I should go to bed and rely on that he'll be here tomorrow morning or if I should sit up and wait. Since I am Sherlock Holmes I most certainly will spend the night out of bed anyway so I could just tell John I waited for him to make up for his fury earlier. White lies are always okay._

_I wish I was an owl. They're all so clever and so good in deducing and, of course, they live in the night. Besides, the entire criterias match for my personality _and _my hair looks like a bird nest. I practically _am _an owl already. _

_Damn, it is so cold in here. I must remember to tell Mrs. Hudson to call someone who can take a look at our radiators; they do not work as they should, by far. My white sheet aren't enough and I could be in need of something warmer to wear, but to get it, I must raise from my perfect position in the sofa. I don't want to do that. Then there is merely one more possibility- I must call for Mrs. Hudson._

_-She didn't answer. Probably not awake, which is weird since her favourite show has an extra episode tonight and for being 70 years she is pretty sharp and should have a physical capacity to stay awake at this time. It's not that late. Ooh, she must have a night out with male company. Of course she has. No one put so much effort on their hair and looks an ordinary Wednesday. Besides, she had been like an excited child for the entire afternoon. Only to be able to interrogate her when she comes home will be enough to make me stay awake. There is nothing a man of science likes more than gossip of nonsense. _

_I wonder if the supermarket is open by now. We are in need of tea but John hasn't bought any. Even though the shop will be filled with low-IQ-people I might manage to get there, just for the tea. Tea's good, tea's _important._ Helps me think almost as good as the violin. And maybe there won't be many outside at this time. But, no, it is far too cold to go outside for something as basic as tea, even though I need it as I need my brain and lungs, and I have it far too cozy in this corner of the sofa._

_Another two hours have now passed and it is now 01.30 after midnight. I don't know how to handle people so I am not sure if John would appreciate a text or a call now. Perhaps he's sleeping at some other friend's house. But what friend would that be? He doesn't have any friends- just me. _


	3. Chapter 3

_16/5_

_I haven't written for quite a while now. I, though, had a case and writing is boring in compare. We caught the murderer and, as always, he was liked with Moriarty. But he was dull in every other way, so it was a total waste of valuable time. _

_Oh, and for your information, John came back. He'd been sleeping in a armchair at the hospital. Pity, I thought Mycroft had picked him up again to ask him to spy on me. We are in need of the money. _

_Yesterday Anderson was here to get my thumbs from the refrigerator and I got even fonder of John than I was before since he threw the door in the face of the ninny. It is my thumbs, and merely mine. The experiment is almost at an end with them now. _

_Oh, and in all my thoughts about the case Mrs Hudson forced me to celebrate my birthday a week ago. It was awful. I was as cruel to Molly as I was last Christmas and I didn't even taste the food Mrs Hudson had made for me. This is the living proofs that you should not disturb me in my thinking. But, I actually quite liked Mycroft's gift.(For some reason, Lestrade had invited him and he had appeared) I got a pack of cigarettes. Of course, I don't need them now, but it is always good to have them for another time. Oh, God, I'll never have a birthday again. Ever. It is a nasty waste of time. _

_And besides birthday, I suffer from another problem. I am so bored but I just can't make myself do anything at all. I'm just lying in the sofa and stare into the back seat of it. Don't even play the violin. A case must come soon or I swear I'll throw myself out of the window. I constantly bark at everyone who try to talk to me. More than usual. But there's something inside of my throat that makes it completely impossible to yell at John. I don't know what it is and it drives me crazy. How am I supposed to cope with, if I am physically empowered to yell at the person who talks most to me of all?_

_Blimey, I have to do something or I'll rot in a dungeon with rats and candy papers as company. It is even sadder than talking to a skull. If you talk to the skull you can, at least pretend, you are Hamlet. _

_But what new should I occupy my brain with?  
University math? – No, too simple._

_Baking? – Me? Baking? No, I don't think so._

_Dancing? – I tried it once, I've got two left feet._

_Reading? – No good books left._

_Mrs Hudson suggested we get a dog. I do not quite like the idea. Dogs are so predictable. A cat would be better but they're disloyal, and they scare the shit out of John._

_This is impossible, I need to find a distraction, else I'll take up the drugs again. And what are these annoying tingles in my nerves? They make me smile and they make me warm inside.. I don't like them, and I certainly do not want them. I should ask Dr Watson about it. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: **I am sorry for the mistakes I did in the last chapter (the date, for example)! And I am very sorry for the awful speed of update. I was wondering about one thing… What is your opinion about the story? Do you like it? Should I add something? Is something wrong with the way I picture Sherlock?

_Sherlock._

_How sweet of you to write a diary. I never thought that of you.  
But it does make you human. (I might write this on my blog ;) )  
About those things you feel in your body, it is feelings, Mr Holmes. You don't have to like  
them, but they will remain just  
where they are.  
Oh, and thank you for the compliment about my  
actions in the case of Anderson's visit. I did quite enjoy it.  
You should run your own blog. People want to  
hear this. This is pure gossip from the heart of the  
heartless Sherlock Holmes. Sorry, did I say "blog"? I  
meant "novel". You'd sell better than Twilight and  
Harry Potter together. Now, I'll leave your privacy alone.  
Good bye, Sherlock._

_John_


End file.
